


Far From Fear

by JG Firefly (Phoenix_Call)



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: AU, F/F, insecure!carmilla, meet the parents, soft!carmilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 06:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20059804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Call/pseuds/JG%20Firefly
Summary: Carmilla was never a ‘meet the parents’ kind of girl. Still, she can’t help but be a little put-out when Laura keeps putting off the introduction... until the worst case scenario leaves them both with no choice in the matter.





	Far From Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Meghan for beta’ing this one, and to Rai and the SLC for the prompt/homework session!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The comforter—and the sheets barely a second after—flashed off of her, accompanied by a rather loud thump, but the sudden cold was much less of a concern than the lack of Laura beside her. That, and the cursing. 

“Cutie?” 

A bra hit her across the face, straps draping, and she pawed it off with a bleary swipe. Laura was scrambling about the room, alternating between yanking on her own clothing and throwing Carmilla’s onto the bed. Her pants landed unceremoniously across her bare chest. 

“What the hell?”

“My dad!” Laura hissed. 

The words rolled over Carmilla without leaving an impression, her thoughts still cloudy and caught up on disappointment as Laura yanked on a sweater, effectively ruining the view. 

“Huh?”

Laura did not spare her a glance, her hair frazzled and still caught halfway under the mess of her bra strap and the crooked neck of the shirt. Her cheeks were dusted pink.

“My  _ dad _ is  _ here _ .” 

Carmilla was bolt upright in a flash, scrambling into her clothing in the order that it fell under her fingers: sock, bra, tank top, skinny jeans, sock. 

She imagined her underwear was somewhere in the tangle of sheets. 

“Here? Why!?”

“I don’t know! But he’s called twice and he sent three texts about needing me to buzz him in, so he’s clearly outside!”

Laura’s hand shoved through her hair, yanking it into a frantic bun. 

“Does he know that we...” Carmilla trailed off, index finger bouncing between the two of them with a suggestive raise of her eyebrow, and Laura grimaced. 

“No! Not the—not that part, no!” 

She had moved on from her hair, ducking into the bathroom and hurrying a washcloth over the smeared makeup she hadn’t bothered to remove the night before. 

Carmilla rested a shoulder on the doorway.

“But... he knows I exist?”

In the mirror, Laura’s eyes went wide; snapped up to meet Carmilla’s. 

She had heard the vulnerability in her own words, but there was no taking them back. 

“Carm, of _course_ he knows you exist.”

Carmilla shrugged, dropped her gaze to the floor, where her toes were just scuffing the line between carpet and yellowed linoleum tile. 

Sherman Hollis lived a mere thirty minutes from campus. Laura had dinner with him at least once a month, even now that she was in grad school with less free time than ever; she always skipped the ginger twins’ invites to the new Marvel or Star Wars movies because she wanted to go with her dad, for ‘old time’s sake;’ and she had even bailed on a date with Carmilla once, to help him shovel his walk after he sprained his ankle last winter. 

Yet, despite all of that—despite the dozens of times that Laura had mentioned plans to see him—she had never invited Carmilla along. And there were really only two reasons Carmilla could imagine for why: either Laura was ashamed of her, or Sherman already hated her. 

“Hey.” 

Ignoring a fresh chirp from her phone, Laura put a hand firmly on each of Carmilla’s arms and gave them a squeeze. 

“He knows all about you. Trust me.”

That, she could do.

She leaned forward, pressed her lips to Laura’s in what was meant to be a peck, but rapidly turned into hands snaking around shoulder blades and tangling in hair. It was the sort of instinct that was hard to ignore. _Impossible_, really, when it came to Laura. 

But then Laura’s phone began to rattle across the counter. 

“Crap,” she hissed. She snatched it up, sucked in a breath, and pressed it to her ear, motioning at Carmilla in a way that suggested  _ do something about your hair _ . “Hey, dad, sorry! I’ll let you in now.” 

Reluctantly, Carmilla grabbed a brush as Laura paced out into the apartment. Through the walls, she heard her offering excuses about sleeping through his previous attempts, and then the faint buzzing as Laura unlocked the entrance for him. 

She reappeared just as Carmilla was finishing a sloppy ponytail. 

“Alright, uh, so he can be... a lot to handle. And he might say some things that you won’t like, but please, please, don’t take him too seriously, okay?”

He definitely hated her. 

“I won’t.”

Laura kissed her again, quick but certain, an apology written in her eyes when she slipped back. She led the way into the living room with Carmilla trailing behind. 

At least she knew what to expect, when Laura opened the door at his knock. She had seen probably hundreds of photos over the years—the evidence of their father-daughter bond strong on social media—and she had heard enough stories to be unsurprised when he immediately pulled Laura into his arms. 

He was a stocky man; not tall or imposing in any real physical way, and he was balding, with an ever-present wrinkle in his brow. 

“I didn’t realize you’d still be asleep, otherwise I’d have waited—Rosefield reopened for the season and I thought I’d bring you some pumpkin bagels, since you—”

He cut off abruptly, the release of Laura from his embrace and his subsequent attempt to show off the bag of bagels bringing Carmilla into his line of sight for the first time. 

He blinked at her. 

Laura, cheeks rapidly returning to red, rubbed a hand awkwardly up her arm. 

“Uh, dad, this is Carmilla.”

He blinked again.

Any moment, he was going to piece together her presence in the apartment at this hour. Match it with their disheveled appearances and sleep-worn expressions. Laura had never talked about him yelling—about what he was like when he got mad—but she could imagine it, nonetheless. She had been yelled at by enough fathers to remember what it was like, even with high school now so far in her rear view. 

“Carmilla,” he repeated. 

Weirdly, a slow smile was drawing across his lips. 

And then all at once he surged forward, and there wasn’t a real moment to react, even if there was a frozen millisecond in which she braced for some level of violence, before she found herself wrapped in a hug, her feet leaving the ground for a startling second. 

“Finally!” he declared, as he set her back in place and offered a beaming smile. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t meet you until the wedding.”

“Oh my god. _Dad!”_

“Well, honey, you can’t blame me. You’ve been talking about her for almost five years, and then you finally start dating and you still won’t let me host a nice barbecue to get to know her.”

It was Carmilla’s turn to blink, her gaze darting away from Sherman to find Laura’s. “Five years?”

“I think so.” Sherman frowned, “Hasn’t it been five years, Laura? You had that art class, remember?”

Under both of their stares, Laura’s ears were going redder than her face. 

Carmilla’s heart was jumping with something different, now. Something far from the fear of a moment ago. 

“Wait. I thought you _hated_ me, back then.”

Laura bit her lip, looking away. “Well, I mean, I _did_... mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Sherman laughed, and then he bustled around her to the kitchen, setting down the bagels and opening the fridge to rummage for butter. 

“I’m going to settle for breakfast right now, but I want a real dinner as soon as you’re both free. I insist on getting to know my future daughter-in-law.”

“Dad, I told you—”

The look Laura sent her was pleading, was an echo of her request earlier, and suddenly Carmilla heard the whole of their conversation in a new light. 

It wasn’t _please don’t be scared of him_. 

It was _please don’t let him scare you off. _

She padded to the kitchen, feeling lighter than air as she hopped onto a barstool. She turned back to offer Laura a smile.

“Actually... I think that sounds like a great plan.”


End file.
